


Weak When You're Around

by eqyptiangold



Series: A Collection of Sterek One Shots [3]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Anal Sex, Angst with a Happy Ending, Domestic Fluff, Established Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski, Established Relationship, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Smut, Kink Negotiation, Knotting, Light Angst, M/M, Masturbation, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Praise Kink, Rimming, Rutting, Smut, Sub Drop, Subdrop, stiles is grumpy and sad for an hour
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-09
Updated: 2019-01-09
Packaged: 2019-10-07 02:49:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,037
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17357522
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eqyptiangold/pseuds/eqyptiangold
Summary: “I love you,” Stiles promises. “And I’m not leaving.” Derek continues to snuffle. “God, dude, how bad is it?” Stiles asks, stealing another glance at his boyfriend’s dick. “Does it, like, start talking? Grow fangs? Split into three and start playing the Imperial March?” Finally , Derek looks up with an eye roll. “There he is!” Stiles cheers, pressing kisses to his forehead and cheeks. “Now tell me what your werewolf dick does. How do I, like, activate it-” he cuts himself off. “D’you have to be hard?”





	Weak When You're Around

When Stiles comes home from school, he instantly knows that something’s wrong. Or maybe years of ludicrously terrible luck and supernatural nasties has trained him to be a bit of a glass half empty person. Maybe something’s not wrong, it’s just… different. Because Derek is missing. Kind of. Stiles has barely made it into the apartment so he can’t exactly claim that Derek is missing, but, well. For months, without fail, his werewolf-with-super-hearing boyfriend had appeared to greet him after every single 8:30 Friday morning class, or at the very least shouting from somewhere in the apartment. 

When Stiles is met with silence, his first thought is to panic. Derek can’t be missing, not now. Stiles has a huge exam in a week and he’s counting on his boyfriend to help him study. For a moment, he’s hit with just how much things have changed since high school. He feels… spoiled, in a way that’s completely irrational. In high school, his reaction wouldn’t have been denial or whatever it was Stiles was feeling. He would have sighed, rolled up his sleeves, and resigned himself to pleading for a re-test. 

Back to the bigger issue at hand. Derek is  _ missing _ , and Stiles is reminiscing about his teen days. “De-” he starts to shout before instincts kick in. Shouting out could warn an intruder of his presence. Although he’s definitely gained some muscle, Stiles still needs a certain element of surprise if he has any chance against… something. He’s still not even sure something’s actually wrong.

Derek has a house, he remembers. Although it’s more of a place for the rest of the pack to hang out than an actual living, sleeping, and eating space. Most of Derek’s clothes are in Stiles’ apartment. The large bedroom at his house hasn’t been used since… Stiles can’t remember. Maybe the night after a huge Ikea trip back when Derek first bought the place. They’d spending hours shopping--which was mostly Stiles picking furniture while Derek followed him with his credit card. Once they managed to drag everything in and construct it--mostly Stiles reading instructions and barking orders while Derek built and hammered without really listening. There’s still a scratch on the wall where a shoddily-constructed wardrobe had collapsed. 

Stiles looks in the bedroom, first. Years of storing everything in his room while at home with Dad, followed by a year in a simple dorm room, had left habits still ingrained into Stiles. Although he has the space, he doesn’t have an office or anything. 

There, lying on the bed with his hand sprawled over his eyes and clad in only boxers, is Derek. He’s merely… sleeping. Not kidnapped by a rival pack or being abducted by hunters. Stiles breathes a sigh of relief. Letting the tension that’s been building steadily seep out of his shoulders, he settles himself on the edge of the bed. 

Stiles had always liked seeing Derek sleep in the earliest stages of their relationship. The alpha’s face completely relaxes and he looks younger, less world-wearied. He’s not smiling but he’s not scowling, either. He just looks neutral. Now that they’ve been together for a few months, and Derek smiles more often in Stiles’ presence, it’s been awhile since Stiles took a moment to appreciate his sleeping boyfriend’s beauty. However, he’s grown to prefer the little smile and twinkly eyes that Derek wears when he’s awake and alone with Stiles. 

Moving slowly and languidly, the younger adult lies on his side to face Derek. He smiles softly and cards a hand through the werewolf’s dark hair. The first time had been a pleasant surprise to discover the tresses were fluffy, not silky. 

“Mm,” Derek groans contentedly, squirming around to face Stiles. “Hi,” he murmurs, voice deep and scratchy. Lazily, he stretches out a hand to interlock with Stiles. Moving slow and languidly, Derek presses a kiss to Stiles’ knuckles. “How was class?” 

“Coma inducing,” Stiles replies wryly, curling closer to his warm boyfriend. “Why are you sleeping so late? Big bad wolf getting lazy?” It’s 10AM and Stiles usually sleeps until noon, but still. Derek hums contentedly rather than replying, pulling Stiles closer and throwing a muscular leg over him. Smiling, Stiles melts into his chest and starts pressing kisses to the alpha’s collarbones. Though it starts out sweet and innocent, Stiles soon finds himself slotting a leg between Derek’s and working on a dark purple hickey. 

Derek, however, seems reluctant. He’s acting the same way he did when Stiles’s young, teenage self had recovered for round two before the alpha was ready. Stiles pulls back, hips still absently twitching against Derek’s thigh. “Were you jerking off before I got home?” Derek has the expression that means he’s holding back a blush. He shifts nervously, focusing in on a spot above Stiles’ head. “You came hard enough to send you into a late morning nap?” Stiles asks, eyebrows shooting up. 

Automatically, his gaze darts over to Derek’s laptop on his desk. “Is there kinky porn in your search history?” Stiles moves so that he’ll be able to dart to the computer before his werewolf boyfriend if necessary. 

“It’s not that.” Stiles knows Derek is telling the truth. He relaxes back onto the bed, twining his legs with Derek’s once again. 

“So there is something,” Stiles prompts. Derek pouts and presses his face into his boyfriend’s slim shoulder, mouthing at his collar bone. “Mm,” Stiles hums happily. “Okay, stop distracting me,” he orders, slapping at Derek’s shoulder. He decides to let the werewolf hide his face, so long as Derek explains. Stiles’ curiosity is growing by the minute. 

“ ‘M i’ ru’,” the werewolf mumbles. 

“Babe, you kinda have to talk with consonants for me to understand you,” Stiles replies placidly. Derek sighs loudly, his warm breath pouring over Stiles’ collarbones. 

“I am…” he trails off, pulling Stiles in for a tight hug as if it’s the last one he’ll ever get. Stiles is freaked out, to say the least. The only thing keeping him calm is the memory that his boyfriend is a bit of a drama queen without realizing it, sometimes. Especially when it comes to things like this. “In heat,” he finishes, biting out each word like it pains him. 

Stiles, for once in his life, freezes, feeling speechless. It doesn’t last long, though. Still unsure what to ask, he sits up and yanks Derek’s boxers down. “Your dick looks the same,” he says plainly. Derek doesn’t even pull back to look at Stiles and pointedly roll his eyes. “So, what? You just have an increased sex drive? More intense orgasms?” 

“Doesn’t always look the same,” Derek mutters. He’s wrapped his arms around his boyfriend’s waist, head on Stiles’ lap with his face pressed into his stomach. Though he usually feels fond when the werewolf sniffs and snuffles him, it’s concerning right now. Derek is acting like he’s trying to breathe in everything he can about his boyfriend, like he’s about to lose him. 

“I love you,” Stiles promises. “And I’m not leaving.” Derek continues to snuffle. “God, dude, how bad is it?” Stiles asks, stealing another glance at his boyfriend’s dick. “Does it, like, start talking? Grow fangs? Split into three and start playing the Imperial March?”  _ Finally _ , Derek looks up with an eye roll. “There he is!” Stiles cheers, pressing kisses to his forehead and cheeks. “Now tell me what your werewolf dick does. How do I, like, activate it-” he cuts himself off. “D’you have to be hard?” 

Derek glares but doesn’t roll his eyes. Stiles takes that as a yes. “Okay, I know you’re still sensitive so ‘m gonna rim you, okay?” In one, quick movement, he slides down Derek’s body and twists the alpha onto his stomach. “Love you,” he murmurs, before delving his tongue into his boyfriend’s ass. 

Like he always does, Derek lets out a high-pitched keen and bucks his hips. Stiles _loves_ rimming Derek, purely for the reactions he gets. He loves whispering about it to the alpha, watching his green eyes go hazy for a moment. “You’re so pretty,” Stiles whispers, smirking fondly when a pink flush stretches across the alpha’s cheeks and down his chest. Stiles gently slides in a finger alongside his tongue, finding the prostate instantly and rubbing at it insistently.   
“Fuck, Stiles,” Derek groans, pressing back into the touch and bucking forward to rub his dick against the mattress. 

“You’re hard!” Stiles cries excitedly, sitting up and shoving his boyfriend onto his back before the werewolf can resist. Derek… he has a knot. The base of his dick is swelled far past it’s usual girth; Stiles’ mind instantly pictures it inside him, holding Derek in until he went soft. “That’s…” Derek lowers his head in shame, starting to squirm away to try and cover himself, “ _ so _ hot.” He reaches out a hand, brushing his fingers against the knot. 

Derek honest-to-god  _ screams _ . His claws tear into the mattress and he throws his head back, wantonly baring his neck with a long moan. “Derek,” Stiles whispers, sounding reverent. Captivated, he continues rubbing at the sensitive flesh and murmuring praise. “Fuck, Derek, you’re so hot, so perfect, I love you so much. Just want to please you, want you to knot me, Derek,  _ please _ .” Derek groans like he’s been punched, grabbing Stiles and tossing him down on the bed. The brunette makes an excited little noise somewhere between a giggle and a moan. He’s always liked it a little rough. 

Derek strips him quickly, using the flannel shirt to tie Stiles’ hands to the headboard. “No!” Stiles yelps, panting. “Please. Wanna touch you.” Derek distracts him by holding out three fingers expectantly. With a breathy moan, Stiles sucks on the digits until the werewolf decides it’s acceptable. He rips them away, sliding two into the human’s ass immediately. “Yes!” Stiles gasps, arching in the perfect mix of pleasure-pain. “Hurry, Derek, please. Need your knot, need it in me  _ yesterday _ , oh god.” 

Breathing heavily, Derek adds another finger. He scissors them and fucks into Stiles a few times before removing them and positioning his dick in front of his boyfriend’s wet and open hole. “Wait!” Stiles gasps. Derek freezes. “You can’t, like, get me pregnant or anything, right?” The alpha gives him a look and shakes his head. “Okay,” Stiles says. “You may proceed.” 

He’s barely gotten the words out before Derek thrusts in hard. 

For a moment, Stiles can’t  _ breathe _ . But it doesn’t even matter because how can he be worried about something as insignificant as air when Derek is pounding into him and making those soft, little growly noises right in his ear. When the alpha hits Stiles’ prostate, he throws his head back into the pillow and howls, trailing off into rapid, overlapping praise for his boyfriend. “Derek, I love you, I love you, please, god, so hot, so good,  _ yes _ .” Derek  _ purrs _ . 

He thrusts in particularly hard, hitting Stiles’ prostate with enough force to make his boyfriend yelp. Stiles is overwhelmed. At some point, Derek had started tugging Stiles’ nipple and pressed their cheeks together, creating a delightfully painful scrape of stubble. Now that he’s found the right angle, Derek brutally slams into Stiles’ prostate repeatedly. The younger man can feel Derek’s knot brush his rim on every thrust. When Stiles blinks, a tear drips down his blissfully-flushed cheek. 

“ ‘M gonna-” the werewolf mutters, leaning down to bite a hickey into the junction of his boyfriend’s mole-dotted neck and shoulder. 

Stiles makes a pleading noise. “Yes, please, Derek, love, knot me, right now, please,” he pants, unconsciously yanking his restrained wrists. 

Derek finally slams in completely, his knot sliding in. Stiles feels so full, his boyfriend’s dick touching every sensitive spot and making the younger man gasp. It only takes a few short rocks of the werewolf’s hips before both of them are coming. Simultaneous orgasms only happen in fanfictions, but Stiles finds himself finishing almost in perfect sync with Derek. “I love you, I love you, so good, Derek, fuck,” Stiles blubbers. 

As they slowly come down from their shared high, Derek loosens the knot holding Stiles’ arms and and spins them so that the smaller man is lying on top of him. The new angle makes Stiles twitch when his boyfriend’s cock bumps his sensitive prostate. He squirms to find a comfortable position to sprawl across his lover’s muscular chest. Absently, he mouths at Derek’s left pec. 

A stray tear smudges on the alpha’s chest, though Stiles has since stopped crying. “You okay?” Derek murmurs softly, tenderly rubbing away the half-dried tear tracks. Unconsciously, Stiles leaned into the touch. 

“Yeah,” he replied softly. “Jus’ tired.” The drowsiness had set in quickly, seeping through his bones like honey in milk. Yawning widely, he curls his face into Derek’s neck and passes out, still filled with his boyfriend’s knot. 

 

When Stiles wakes up the next morning, he feels like shit. The bed is cold and empty with Derek nowhere to be seen. Though the rational part of Stiles sees the late afternoon sunshine filtering through the window, knows his boyfriend probably decided to let him sleep late, he can’t stop the hopeless abandonment he feels. Miserably, he presses his face into the pillow. 

Nothing feels good. Usually he feels lethargic and happy the morning after particularly good sex, but something is different today. Stiles feels… empty. His body aches and there’s a deep-seated discomfort whose cause he can’t pinpoint. Even though it must be at least four in the afternoon, if not later, he can’t bring himself to feel hungry. His stomach stings with cramps.  
Nothing is making sense. Stiles had reached a point in his life where he was well and truly happy, not just content or okay, _happy_. But right now he can’t muster up anything except guilt and helplessness. It’s irrational, and he _knows_ that, but the feeling won’t fade. 

“Derek!” Stiles calls, hoping that his boyfriend can somehow get things to make sense again. There’s no answer. Weakly, Stiles drags himself to the edge of the bed. On the nightstand, under his phone, there’s a note scrawled on a ripped sheet of paper. 

_ Went to get some supplies for dinner. Be back around 4. Love you, sleepyhead  _

_ -Derek.  _

Stiles peers at the clock on his phone. It’s 4:15 PM. 

Without even pausing to coo over his badass alpha boyfriend’s use of the word  _ sleepyhead _ , he lets out a long, forlorn noise and slumps back into the bed and falls back asleep. 

 

“Stiles?” As Derek enters the apartment, he calls out before he’s fully in the door. As he takes a few steps in, however, Stiles’ scent hits him like a punch to the gut. The pretty boy smells  _ miserable _ . His heart is beating slow enough that Derek can tell he’s asleep, but for half a second he panics with the thought that Stiles is lying somewhere close to death. Even after he realizes that his boyfriend is okay--or not about to die, at least--the alpha still sprints towards their bedroom. “Stiles,” he says frantically, crawling onto the bed. He pulls the younger boy’s head onto his lap, worriedly carding his hand through the soft brunette tresses. 

“D’rek?” Stiles slurs, peering up through half-lidded eyes. 

“Hey, baby, I’m here,” Derek murmurs, pawing worriedly at his boyfriend’s cheeks and neck.

“You’re late,” Stiles replies. A scowl stretches across his features. “An’ you left me,” he grumbles. Derek is shocked into silence for a moment. He’d been expecting… well, he wasn’t sure what he’d been expected. But it wasn’t this. 

“Sorry,” he says after a pause. “You were really tired, so I thought I’d make you dinner,” he explains, feeling awkward and overly-formal in his wording. 

“Whatever,” Stiles mutters, sighing loudly. 

Derek is confused. “What’s wrong?” he asks softly, absently laying one hand across his boyfriend’s neck while the other continues to pet at his face and hair. “Is it… about last night?” Fuck. He knew he shouldn’t have knotted Stiles; the younger man was a human, for fuck’s sake. 

“No, you idiot,” Stiles growls, easing a tsunami of guilt and regret in Derek’s chest. “I’m just-” Stiles breaks off, rolling onto his side with his head still in his lover’s lap. “I don’t know! I’m sorry. I just… I don’t feel right.” 

Derek is starting to freak out a little bit. 

Keeping his eyes on Stiles the whole time, he leans back on the bed and pulls his boyfriend in between his legs. Making a small noise that’s trapped somewhere between pleased, melancholy, and confused, Stiles cuddles into his chest. Derek wraps his arms around the lithe shoulders, rubbing Stiles’ bare skin. “I should want to research,” he mumbles. “But I just… don’t.” Sorrowfully, he emits a quiet whimper. 

“Don’t worry,” Derek says gently, absently tracing between the moles on his boyfriend’s back. “Do you want me to research for you?” 

“No,” Stiles says immediately, darting a hand out to grip the alpha’s hip. “Just stay. Hold me,” he pleads. 

“Okay,” Derek agrees. He rubs his boyfriend’s back until they both fall asleep. 

 

“Sub drop!” Stiles yells, waking Derek by jumping on his waist. The werewolf wakes with a grunt, one hand instinctively flying up to catch his thin waist. Derek makes a sleepy, questioning noise that makes Stiles want to kiss his nose. “Yesterday, when I was all grumpy--sorry, by the way, for being a dick--it’s called sub drop. It’s a BDSM thing. By the way, we’re going to do some seriously kinky shit because knotting is hot as hell but I refuse for that to be the kinkiest thing I’ve ever done. Anyways, sub drop. Basically, during the ‘scene,’ there’s a spike in endorphins and adrenaline. Sub drop is the crash afterwards.” 

Derek nods and Stiles can see him slowly taking in the information. After an hour and a half of research, he’s tempted to spew information at his boyfriend, but he holds back. It’s early and Derek has never been a morning person. Or an afternoon or evening person, really. He’s just kind of… a Stiles person. Stiles giggles to himself at the thought. Derek looks confused. 

He still smiles back, though. 

  
  



End file.
